


A Ghost Story

by dreamwalking78



Category: Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe - Fannie Flagg, The wonder boy of whistle stop
Genre: F/F, Implied Sexual Content, Set at the end of The Wonder Boy of Whistle Stop, The ending I thought it needed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:08:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28421460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamwalking78/pseuds/dreamwalking78
Summary: Right before Ruthie opens Whistle Stop Cafe for the first time in years, it comes under inspection from the original owners.
Relationships: Ruth Jamison/Idgie Threadgoode
Comments: 15
Kudos: 21





	A Ghost Story

**Author's Note:**

> My apologies to my usual WayHaught readers. This is probably not the pairing you subscribed for. Don't worry we'll return to that Haught Mess on January 5th. This is a pairing that meant a lot to me though. A representation that I didn't fully understand my pull towards as a child until I was in my teens, reading the book while realizing so much about myself. 
> 
> If you never read these books, you might be lost. For those that know the Fried Green Tomatoes movie, there was a book. This year the author released a follow up. She did acknowledge that Ruth and Idgie were more than just best friends. It was a good moment, but I kept waiting for a moment that I didn't find. A moment where their lives came together one last time. The happy ending. 
> 
> So what did I do? I wrote it. It gave me closure. Hopefully it does the same for you.

It had been sixty-five years since Idgie had set foot inside the Whistle Stop Cafe. Once it was sold, she never went back. Mostly because she knew no matter what, she’d never walk in the door and see Ruth’s face smiling back at her from behind the counter. The life she had loved more than anything was gone. Sure she had stood outside staring at it longer than she probably should have each time she was summoned back for somber occasions, but going inside...well that just wasn’t happening.    
  
As she entered the doors her eyes darted around the room. It had changed, yet it was so much the same. The pictures she had placed in the shed, now hung on the walls in new frames. The deer head was back in place. Everything was modern and new, yet it still appeared she was at the exact same cafe she had left all those years ago.   
  
“It took you an awful long time. Should I even ask about where you’ve been?”    
  
Idgie froze. That one voice carried the sweet melody of memories she held onto with everything she had. She turned towards the counter with a half-cocked smile on her lips as she did. With her hands resting on the counter, Ruth stood in the same dress she wore that day Idgie had shown her the honey tree. Her smile chased all the years of loneliness and darkness away. For the first time in a very long time, Idgie was speechless. Only as she walked closer realizing that Ruth looked the same as she had when she first visited Whistle Stop, did Idgie begin to find words.    
  
“Somebody had to make sure the good reverend had a proper welcome home goat on his roof.”   
  
Ruth shook her head, but her smile never left her face. She pushed back from the counter rounding the back walking towards Idgie. As she approached, Idgie caught a glimpse of herself reflected in the glass of the covered cake plate. Her silver hair had faded away, her wrinkles melted. She too was a much younger version of herself once again. She smiled at the image for only a second, too afraid that looking away from Ruth for too long would cause her to disappear.    
  
Somewhere in the back of the cafe, a radio roared to life playing a slow song. Instinctively, Idgie’s hands reached out to rest on Ruth’s hips. She stopped short, afraid that once again this was a dream and the second she touched her, she would disappear. It was only when Ruth’s arms circled around Idgie’s neck, did she finally let her fingertips touch the fabric of Ruth’s dress and press until they found their spot.   
  
As they swayed, Idgie wondered how she could feel so drunk yet be completely sober? Then it hit her, Ruth. Only Ruth could ever affect her like this. She leaned in taking in the smell of the soap Ruth used, bathing her senses in everything she had missed out on for so very long. Tears threatened to prick her eyes, but she held back.   
  
“Our granddaughter did a wonderful job restoring this place.” Ruth’s voice cut through Idgie’s thoughts and brought her back to the present. She looked around taking in what had been said. She knew she had died in 1989. She knew the only way her and Ruth would ever see each other again was in death. Even then, she figured she’d be alone. Surely someone as good as Ruth made it to heaven, while someone as wild as Idgie would spend eternity somewhere else. Yet here she was with the very woman she had loved her entire life. Maybe, this was their heaven.   
  
“Your granddaughter.” Idgie corrected. “She’s not my blood Ruth.”    
  
Even though the words were the truth, it ripped Idgie apart to say it. It had always ripped her apart to know things would never be as they had seen them. She was always Aunt Idgie, though she would always rather have been Aunt Idgie than to see Buddy grow up with Frank as a father.    
  
Two soft, yet firm hands cupped Idgie’s face bringing her eyes to meet soft brown ones. A stern face greeted her. Ruth’s expression was not one of anger. No, it was something much deeper, emotional even. It stopped Idgie from moving as she felt her own flood of emotions wash over her.   
  
“Imogene Threadgoode you listen to me. We may not have been able to call a duck a duck at that time, but don’t you EVER doubt who you were to Buddy. To me. Buddy is  _ our _ son. Ruthie is  _ our _ granddaughter.” Those eyes darted searching Idgie’s face for some form of recognition of what she was saying. “Say it.”   
  
Idgie’s heart swelled. She felt the tears she had held at bay start to fall at Ruth’s words. Ruth wasn’t wrong. They never could be who they were, but they always knew. It didn’t mean the word aunt didn’t still sting at times. It didn’t mean Ruthie not knowing her as grandma didn’t shatter her just a little in the dark of night. So she did exactly what Ruth asked. She tested the words, tasting them in her mouth as a shaky voice began.   
  
“ _ Our  _ son.” Ruth nodded, smiling as tears streamed down her face. This time with more confidence, Idgie spoke the final words. “ _ Our _ granddaughter.”    
  
Ruth smiled her forehead resting against Idgie’s as they continued dancing across the floor of the cafe. “I’ve missed you.”   
  
Idgie’s voice was barely a whisper, her lips brushing against Ruth’s cheek in a way they only could when alone after the cafe had closed and Buddy was fast asleep. There was a smile in Ruth’s voice as she spoke. “I’ve waited a long time for this.”   
  
With that two soft lips pressed against Idgie’s. Suddenly, the world was right once again. Idgie pressed back, deepening the kiss with every ounce of emotion she could possibly muster. She put herself fully into her actions as she pulled Ruth’s body closer to hers only parting when they could no longer be without air. The irony, as Idgie was very much aware, they no longer required it.   
  
Idgie laughed, carefree as she once was so many years ago as she picked Ruth up spinning her around until she placed her on the counter. The counter where they served their friends every day. The counter many hobos found their first meal in weeks. The counter that was always full of love in the form of comfort food.    
  
Ruth laughed as her hand once again cupped Idgie’s face. “My bee charmer.”    
  
Oh how Idgie had longed to hear Ruth call her that so many times. Somewhere in her mind she had always felt as if Ruth was behind her watching every time she would approach a bee tree. She would pause letting that feeling wash over her and for a minute, she would let herself believe that she was there with her.    
  
A mischievous smile darted across Idgie’s face as she took in the sight before her of Ruth sitting on the counter. It had been a long night after the first Georgia boys had showed up at the Cafe in all white. Grady had promised the Alabama boys would take care of any issues, but it had not eased Ruth’s mind. She kept going back to that counter staring out the window, fearing Frank returning. Idgie had tried so many things to ease her mind. Then an idea had struck her on how to clear her mind instead. She had protested, even trying to push Idgie away, but at the first gentle touch, she had given in. Her mind and body relaxed for the first time that night.   
  
“Ruth, do you remember the last time I picked you up and put you on this counter?”    
  
Ruth’s face flushed a deep crimson. Her jaw hung open as her mind flashed back to this same cafe coated in the darkness of night. Her back facing the windows. Her dress was hiked up higher than any lady would ever allow. Her weight rested on her arm planted behind her, keeping her upright. Her other other hand carded through golden hair as she tried and failed to contain the gasps and moans escaping her.    
  
“Idgie!” She yelled feigning horror at the implication.    
  
Idgie simply laughed, lifting her off the counter and into her arms once again. The weight of Ruth’s body against hers filling a void left seventy-one years ago. She took Ruth’s hand into hers and gently tugged it pulling her behind the counter and into the living area behind the cafe. Both women smiled knowing what the other was thinking. 

“You always were a lady Ruth.” Ruth darted her eyes away before looking back into those blue pools she could have swam in forever, never tiring of the view. “And a lady deserves better than a counter.”   
  
As the two figures walked through the opening, their eyes never left one another. The radiance of their smiles could easily be felt in the room. Their hands interlocked, they faded into the night. This time together.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my wife for being my harshest critic and making me a better writer because of it.
> 
> As always comments and kudos are greatly appreciated and keep me writing. Catch me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/dreamwalking_78) or on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/geckogirl9)


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